


Buff Angry Maid-Chan

by KivaEmber



Series: Shadow Ops AU [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Crack Treated Seriously, Crossdressing, Crossover, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Persona 5: The Royal, Sexual Roleplay, Shadow Operatives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: “I need you to investigate the rumours of ‘Buff Angry Maid-Chan’, a demon that reportedly haunts the headquarters.”Akira stared at Mitsuru, took in her serious, ‘take-no-shit’ expression, and wondered how on earth his work and personal life could have collided in such an unexpected and mortifying way.or;Akira and Akechi's game gets... slightly out of hand.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: Shadow Ops AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864810
Comments: 9
Kudos: 256





	Buff Angry Maid-Chan

**Author's Note:**

> please do not take this seriously, it's silly and fun lol

“I need you to investigate the rumours of ‘Buff Angry Maid-Chan’, a demon that reportedly haunts the headquarters.”

Akira stared at Mitsuru, took in her serious, ‘take-no-shit’ expression, and wondered how on earth his work and personal life could have collided in such an unexpected and mortifying way. He slowly looked down at the case file Mitsuru pushed towards him, the grainy black-and-white photos that looked like they had been done around corners on shaky camera phones revealing something that resembled a ghostly maid doing suspicious acts like folding someone’s underwear at two in the morning, or aggressively mopping the floors, or replacing the milk in the break room. The dress they wore was 90% frills, clearly purchased from an adult store and not actually for the act of cleaning, had heels that could be repurposed as a stiletto blade in a pinch, and clearly filled the whole thing out with well-toned muscles. 

No faces were caught in any of the photos, though. The long hair concealed their identity like they were Sadako from The Ring. 

“Uh,” Akira said eloquently. 

“For the past month, the rumours of this suspected demon have escalated,” Mitsuru explained, no doubt taking Akira’s stunned horror for scepticism, “Before, I was willing to dismiss it as the overactive imagination of an overtired employee… but multiple sightings have been reported, each more disturbing from the last.”

“The case file says they just clean the building,” Akira said dumbly, “Uh, that doesn’t seem… disturbing?”

Mitsuru sighed. 

“They have direct access to every part of this building,” she said severely, “They handle our supplies, they evade detection and capture, and they have even resorted to changing the sheets of our live-in employees while they are still in their _beds._ ”

“Wow,” Akira said, genuinely impressed. 

“The fact we do not know their identity means they are a security risk,” Mitsuru said, “At the very least, I would like to see if it is simply… one of our own with a… unique… hobby that they partake in to vent stress. Do you have any ideas of who they could be?”

Akira stared at the grainy photo of Buff Angry Maid-Chan angrily slapping a sign on a door. He recognised it. It was the one that said _“GET RID YOUR OUT-OF-DATE FOOD_ **_BEFORE_ ** _IT TURNS INTO A BIOHAZARD, YOU NASTY BITCHES”_ in the shared kitchen of the Shadow Ops HQ dormitories. 

“Not a clue,” Akira lied cheerily. 

* * *

The moment he was free, Akira barged into his and Goro’s shared dorm room yelling; “SHE KNOWS!”

Goro looked up from the cramped desk he was hunched over, expression irritated, eyes tired and heavy-lidded, and snapped; “ _Akira,_ I’m busy-”

“She. Knows!” Akira stressed, grabbing his grumpy boyfriend by the bicep and shaking him a bit too vigorously. He ignored the biro stabbing him in the shoulder, “Ow. She knows! About Buff Angry Maid-Chan!”

Goro did not seem panicked or horrified about this revelation. He just stared at Akira like he was afflicted with some awful disease that made him puke up slugs with every word he uttered, “And this is cause for you screaming at the top of your lungs because…?”

“She asked me to _investigate,_ ” Akira melted into a despondent puddle next to Goro’s chair, still clinging to his arm like a drowning sailor clutching dramatically to spindly flotsam lost at sea, “I have to investigate the rumooouuuuurs!”

Goro stared at him, and finally, _finally,_ Akira could see him comprehending the situation. Soon he’ll echo his own panic, and they can both squirm in discomfort together before assembling a battle plan to deal with this shitshow-

“My, my,” Goro purred, leaning one elbow on his desk as he smiled down at him with a predatory delight. He did not panic. He was not discomforted. In fact he seemed absolutely tickled about Akira’s mortification, “It should be an easy investigation for you then, shouldn’t it? You already know of Buff Angry Maid-Chan’s identity.”

Akira gaped up at him, “You- why are you being so casual about this?” 

“Because if I go down, you go down with me,” Goro said sweetly, and the ashes of his Detective Prince rose up to give Akira a chilly smile that was both sweet and threatening all at the same time, “My reputation was salted and earthed long ago. I’m immune to whatever fallout will happen.”

 _Fuck,_ he’s right. Goro no longer had any shame. 

“...fine,” Akira climbed to his feet and released Goro’s arm from his white-knuckled grip, “I’ll go and tell Mitsuru right now.”

“Alright,” Goro said easily, watching him with that smug, shit-eating grin that made Akira want to both punch him and kiss him senseless.

“I’m doing it,” Akira said, unmoving. 

“Mhm.” 

“Really.”

“I can see that.”

Akira narrowed his eyes. Goro’s answering grin teetered on the edge of unhinged, the milliseconds before he called down Loki’s bloodlust and rent a limping, fleeing enemy with his bare hands. 

“...fuck,” Akira muttered, realising Goro called his bluff. 

“Tell me how that investigation goes,” his boyfriend said jovially, turning back to his work, his spirits considerably higher than when Akira stormed in, “I’m curious to learn what theories you make up to feed to Mitsuru.” 

“Fuck,” Akira said yet again. 

* * *

He managed to kick the can down the road for about a week before Mitsuru called him in for an update. 

“It’s… slow going,” Akira said weakly, aware this was a pathetic excuse, “He’s very elusive when he wants to be.” 

“You’ve discovered the suspect is a man?”

 _Erk._ “Ah, well, the… pictures… lend to that profile. I guess.”

“Hmm,” Mitsuru said. Akira wondered if the rumours of her able to smell bullshit was actually true. 

Still, he was released from the meeting unmolested, though with a distinct feeling his competency had dipped a few notches from Mitsuru’s point of view. 

That wouldn’t do. He’d have to think of something to feed her, like Goro suggested. Or he could come clean, but it might be a bit awkward at this point. The thing was, he doubted Mitsuru would even be that mad. She might be relieved to know that Buff Angry Maid-Chan meant no ill-will, except to those who did not heed the increasingly aggressive notes they left about the building on this or that failing. 

Akira passed one such note stapled to the men’s bathroom door. It read: _“IF YOU TAKE A SHIT FLUSH IT YOU DISGUSTING ANIMALS”._

Truly, Buff Angry Maid-Chan was the only thing standing between them and complete filth. 

* * *

“Goro,” Akira said when he accosted his boyfriend in the break room. He was beating the shit out of the vending machine, most likely because it had eaten his change again. He raised his voice a little to be heard over the violence; “I have a problem.”

“So do I. It’s called this _thieving pieCE OF SHIT VENDING MACHINE!”_ Goro bellowed, sending one last resounding kick against the dented front of the vending machine. The poor thing wheezed, but released the item it had been holding hostage. It was that weird coffee-honey drink Goro was addicted to for some batshit insane reason. 

“Goro,” Akira whined pathetically, “I need to lie to Mitsuru.”

 _This_ grabbed Goro’s attention. He fished out his drink, cracked it open, and shot him a curious look, “Oh? About Buff Angry Maid-Chan?”

“Nnngh,” Akira groaned, “What should I say?”

“The truth?” Goro suggested sarcastically. 

They both shared a laugh over that. 

“No, seriously,” Akira said, as Goro took a deep chug of that nasty drink, “Should I really? This is getting kinda stupid now.” 

“Is it?” Goro wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand, “You know, if it weren’t for that Maid, this building would revert to its filthy state. You would think half of the people here were raised in the woods by feral wolves.”

“ _You_ were raised in the woods by feral wolves.”

“And yet I still know how to operate a toilet,” Goro said severely, “And when to collect my laundry on time.” 

“Goro…” Akira sighed, “We’ve gone over this! The second toilet to the left on floor four hasn’t got enough flushing power to-”

“That’s no excuse! You would simply avoid that toilet whenever you needed to shit-”

“Oh my _god,_ I’m not arguing about the fourth floor toilet with you!” Akira jabbed a finger at Goro’s chest, ignoring the warning snarl his boyfriend gave him, “What should I tell Mitsuru?”

“How should I know?” Goro muttered sulkily, “It’s not _my_ investigation, is it?” 

Akira frowned at him… and allowed his expression to slowly ease into a pout. Goro shifted uneasily, so Akira let his shoulders slump too, tapping the toe of his boot against the floor as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He was now Akira the Kicked Puppy and he was very sad. 

“That won’t work on me,” Goro said stiffly. 

“Gorooooo…” Akira whined.

“No,” Goro marched around his, stiff-backed, “This is your mess, so it’s your responsibility to clean it up.” 

“God- fucking damn it,” Akira huffed when Goro escaped the break room. This would be so much easier if Goro just confessed the whole thing to Mitsuru himself. 

* * *

It all came to a head after the second week, where Mitsuru very strongly implied that Akira stopped procrastinating and actually did the job he was employed for. He skittered out of that meeting with his metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, and decided he’ll simply have to stage a dramatic capture and feign shock when Buff Angry Maid-Chan’s identity was revealed. 

Easier said than done. 

He forced himself out of bed at two in the morning, not even bothering to change out of his pyjamas (Goro’s featherman t-shirt that he borrowed and never returned and a pair of loose grey bottoms in danger of slipping off his hips) and groggily left the dorms to Buff Angry Maid-Chan’s hotspots.

One of the rumours about ‘her’ claimed that if you said ‘her’ name three times in the mirror, ‘she’ll’ appear and strangle you with ‘her’ stockings. Sadly, Akira knew that wasn’t true, so he had to mundanely track the maid down. He found ‘her’ in the laundry room, angrily muttering under ‘her’ breath as she ripped out laundry that had been left overnight in the washing machine, wet, and shoving it into the tumble dryer. 

Stacks of clothes were already neatly folded and resting atop of the tumble dryers. Akira vaguely remembered one coworker complaining that the laundry room was haunted by either a helpful or perverted ghost, obsessed as it was in folding people’s unattended underwear. 

“Maid-Chan,” Akira rasped, his voice rough with sleep. 

The maid went still, not turning from the washing machine they were bent over. Akira tired to stop his gaze was gravitating to the tempting frame of ruffles and frills that _just_ about covered the firm swell of Maid-Chan’s ass, a glimpse of well-toned thighs clad in form-fitting stockings on a pair of legs that went on for miles. 

“It’s over,” Akira continued, “I’m telling Mitsuru, and I’m bringing you in with me.” 

Maid-Chan finished transferring the wet clothes into the tumble dryer and turned it on, before turning towards him. 

Goro gave him a very amused smile, planting one hand against his hip and canting it to the side, his eyebrows raised challengingly; “Oh? Giving in so easily, _Joker_? I would have thought conducting a fake investigation to prolong our game would be an easy enough challenge for you…” 

“I can’t lie to Mitsuru,” Akira admitted miserably, “I should’ve been Maid-Chan instead.” 

“You couldn’t pull off all these frills,” Goro said honestly. He tucked a wayward lock of hair behind his ear, his smile gaining a sharp edge to it, “Hm, you haven’t dressed for an official arrest.” 

Oh, Akira really did miss an opportunity to put on his punishment cop outfit, huh? Oh well, maybe next time; “I don’t need to dress up to subjugate you.” 

Goro’s sharp smile gained _teeth,_ bloodthirsty and unhinged, his eyes glittering scarlet under the fluorescent light of the laundry room. The tension racketed up between them, and Akira was painfully aware of how small this room was, how he had all but boxed Goro into a little corner - if he wanted to escape, he’d have to get through Akira, and he _could_ do it. The _Buff_ in Buff Angry Maid-Chan was there for a reason. 

“Confident, aren’t we?” Goro’s purr was breathless. His pupils were dilated, “Well then…” 

Well then. 

Akira waited. Two predators sizing each other up, breathing shallow and fast, cheeks flushed in anticipation. His gaze was drawn to the exposed line of Goro’s throat, how the bust of the maid uniform snugly hugged his boyfriend’s chest and followed the contours of his torso and waist. Akira had an overwhelming urge to sink his fingernails into the flimsy silk and _tear._

The squeak of Goro’s stiletto heel scraping linoleum was the only warning Akira got, when his boyfriend lunged at him. He managed to brace himself, laughing a little wildly as they grappled, until he hooked a foot around Goro’s ankle and sent him sprawling onto the floor, accidentally knocking down a neatly folded pile of towels in the process. There was frills and cloth and fabric _everywhere_ as Akira descended on his half-dazed boyfriend, their fight sending them rolling and kicking across the laundry room and-

Well. 

The fight’s nature shifted significantly, once Akira ripped the dress open. 

* * *

“So.” 

Akira stared very intensely at his knees. At some point in the scuffle he’d scraped it and the blood had oozed through the fabric of his grey pyjama bottoms, staining it black. 

Next to him, Goro was decent via a borrowed towel - though, technically speaking he was decent beneath the towel, though the pair of them agreed Mitsuru would not like to have the mental image of Goro in panties and stockings seared into her memory forevermore. They did need some professionalism in their relationship, despite Akira’s fuck up. 

Mitsuru loomed over them like some vengeful god, blocking the exit of the laundry room with her arms crossed and the fluorescent light casting her features into sharp relief. Both Akira and Goro were kneeling seiza, in the middle of the carnage they had wrought in the laundry room. Beside them the tumble dryer merrily beeped its mission complete, a high pitched tone that sounded increasingly obnoxious with each repeat. 

“Kurusu,” Mitsuru’s voice was as warm as an unforgiving tundra locked in a blizzard, “I want a _thorough_ report on the incident here, as well as an essay on maintaining professional distance between your personal and work life. We will proceed from there.”

Akira tried to melt into the linoleum as he made some mangled, choked noise of affirmation, not trusting himself to open his mouth. 

Mitsuru turned ominously towards Goro, like a Cat 5 hurricane on a weather forecast. 

“You,” she began, “Tomorrow. Nine o’clock.” 

Goro wisely said nothing, nodding slowly at the floor like he was listening to some addictive beat they were otherwise deaf to. 

Giving them one last look, Mitsuru neatly pivoted on her heel and departed the wrecked laundry room. The tumble dryer beeped once more. Goro leaned over and popped the door to make it stop. 

“Well,” Akira croaked, “Um. So.” 

“You should have told the truth the moment she asked you to investigate,” Goro said mildly, not looking overly concerned about his impending execution. 

“Erk.” 

They tidied the room up - Goro criticised his folding skills without mercy - and they returned to their room in various states of dignity. Akira tried to will himself to turn into a ghost, while Goro held his chin up high while holding the shredded remains of Buff Angry Maid-Chan’s outfit, his stiletto heels clip-clopping loudly down the corridor. He left the towel behind, so his decency was once more in question. 

“We’re dead,” Akira declared after a too long moment of silence. 

“Probably,” Goro said, “But it was fun.” 

Yes, it was, but they were still dead, “We’re never doing this again.” 

Goro gave him a _look,_ the sort that said ‘haha funny’, because he knew him best, and he knew that as terrifying as it was to get executed by Mitsuru, he was also a filthy adrenaline junkie and that the laundry room sex had been very much worth it. 

“I give you a month, before you ask for another game to play,” Goro finally said. 

Yeah, a month sounded about right. 

“Okay,” Akira said, “But I want to wear the heels next time.”

“Deal,” Goro said, and they sealed it with a cheeky hip bump. 

**Author's Note:**

> we need more shadow ops au stuff and also i just really wanted to write this bc of a dumb convo i had hdhjskassk


End file.
